


Famine

by Anonanonsir



Category: Enderal (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Backstory, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 13:40:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15220346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonanonsir/pseuds/Anonanonsir
Summary: With southern Nehrim in the grip of a drought, Eska and Sirius do their best to get by, but it's not always enough.





	Famine

**Author's Note:**

> Content Advisory: reference to assault/attempted rape

It was never morning in the Shallows. Dawn could turn the harbor waters into sparkling sheets of rose gold only yards away, but between the crowded, sagging buildings there was only ever murky twilight. The air was heavy and humid, choked with the fetid reek of piss and refuse and the everpresent smell of fish. Cheap incense wafted from one building as Eska hurried past, almost masking the smell of death that drifted up from the Drowned Quarter.

The streets were quiet. He was grateful for that. Nonetheless there was a furtive anxiety to his pace and he kept to the deeper shadows as he navigated the narrow, tortuous lanes.

The alley was near the outskirts, where the Shallows bled into the warehouse quarter. It was empty and with a nervous backward glance, he ducked inside. Even as he did so he felt the space around him growing tighter, the air closer and more oppressive. He told himself he couldn’t smell the sweat or the ale sour breath on his face, that it was all in his head. He couldn’t think about that, he needed to find it.

He needed to find it. Nothing else mattered. He forced himself to move deeper into the alley, frantically scanning the ground as he picked his way along. It had to be here. It _had_ to.

It was not hard to find the spot. The churned up mud against the wall,  the heavy boot prints and thrashing, scrabbling marks that covered the ground. It caked his tattered clothing and mixed with the blood on his face.

His eyes leapt hopefully from one scrap of detritus to another as he circled the area, once, twice, three times. It wasn’t there. He dropped to his knees, feeling with his hands, raking his fingers through the soft, sucking mess with mounting desperation. Please be there. _Please._

“Eska?”

His body jerked violently at the sound, lurching to his feet and halfway to bolting before he recognized the voice. But that only made it worse.

“There you are! You never came back last night, I -- “ Sirius broke off, eyes going wide as he caught sight of his friend’s face.

“Blazes, what happened to you?”

Eska seemed to shrink, stammering past swollen lips. “Nothing!” He tried to turn away, pawing at his face as if he could brush away the bruises and broken skin along with the dried mud. He needed more _time_. Just a little more time.

Sirius closed the distance between them in sharp, anxious strides. “Eska, what happened?” He reached out, confusion muddling with concern as Eska flinched away

“ _Nothing_.” Eska forced himself to meet his eyes, pleading. But Sirius had that look. Dark and unnaturally still like the air just before a thunderstorm.

“Who was it? Was it Haimon? I’ll split his bloody head open if he--”

“No. Just-- Gods. It was nobody. Just a customer.”

He saw the worry in Sirius’ eyes sharpen, searching his face with a sudden intensity which made Eska squirm. “He didn’t---”

“ _No_.” Eska cut him off. Beneath the blood and bruises his face was burning. He could still feel the fingers around his throat, forcing him down, the jarring, dizzy pain as boots caught him in the face and stomach, dirt in his mouth and the smothering weight on top of him. Small and helpless as if he were a child again. He tried to push it away. “Just roughed me up is all. Didn’t like being told off. Bastard had the pox. I’m not that desperate for coin.”

It was true. True enough. He’d managed to get away. He’d been lucky. But he didn’t feel like it. Just a nagging sense of shame. He’d been stupid, so bloody stupid, and he was furious with himself for letting it happen, for letting it happen again. He wasn’t a child anymore, he wasn’t supposed to feel like this. The sense of powerlessness still clung to him like filth until he wanted to claw his own skin off.

And that wasn’t even the worst of it. He looked down at his hands, picking nervously at the hem of his tunic. Freelancing wasn’t exactly easy at the best of times, but with the drought tightening folks’ purses, the entertainment guild had in turn tightened its grip on the Shallows. Tonight he thought he’d gotten lucky, two customers without the guild’s enforcers coming down on him, but then...then everything had gone to shit.  

“I lost my coin purse,” he admitted, his shoulders tensing for a blow. “It must’ve come off when he…. I -- I know I should’ve -- But he called the guards on me! Said I’d robbed _him_. Ran me clear to Ravenshead before I lost them.” He looked up then, searching Sirius’ face in anxious appeal. “But I came back. I came back as soon as I could. But someone must’ve -- it’s -- it’s not here. It’s not here. I--”

“Eska. It’s alright. It’s fine. It--”

“It’s not fine!” he burst out. “It’s not bloody fine! That was the first coin I’ve made in -- in -- I can’t remember the last time! And I won’t be able to get work now. Not with my face like this.”

“Eska--”

“I can’t work the Market, the guards all know me by sight. The Temple shut down Artus. There’s nothing at the Docks anymore --” The words kept spilling out of him, the frantic, cornered look in his eyes growing more wild with each passing second.

He had the look of one teetering on the edge of something and Sirius stepped forward instinctively, reaching for his shoulders to steady him, but Eska tore away from his touch.

“Get _off_ me!” He snarled, swiping at Sirius with a clumsy backhand. His knuckles grazed his chin and the hot rush of anger turned suddenly cold.

Eska froze, looking up at Sirius in wide-eyed, stricken silence. He’d never hit him before. They’d argued plenty of times, but he’d never hit him. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t supposed to be like that.

He cringed back half a step, expecting a blow that never came. Sirius was better than that. Better than him. Sirius had never hurt him. Though just then Eska wished that he would.

It was too much. His face crumpled, and then his whole body, folding in on itself as he sagged against the alley wall, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. Sirius, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I--”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s not,” Eska choked. “It’s not alright. I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“I lost the money. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have let him -- I should have _known_. I -- I --”

“Eska--”

“ _I’m so hungry_.” His voice was little more than a pleading whimper.

There was a soft, heavy sigh and Sirius seemed to sag under the weight of it. “I know.” He reached out again, his touch tentative and uncertain, but Eska didn’t pull away this time. “I know. But we’ll manage. We always do. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?” The warmth of a smile crept into his voice. Eska was the confident one, over-confident, it was enough to give Sirius grey hairs. How many times had they argued over that, and suddenly it was gone and he’d have given anything to see that stupid, cocky grin again.

Eska didn’t answer. He shut his eyes and burrowed closer, his forehead butting against Sirius’ chest. He needed to feel close, to feel _safe_. Needed it with such sharp desperation he felt like he was strangling.

He heard the soft exhale and felt the weight of Sirius’ chin settling against the top of his head as arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him close. He could feel the rise and fall of each breath, and the slow drumming of the heart inside his chest, steady and strong until his own heartbeat slowed to match it.

Presently Sirius drew back, one arm still around his shoulders, and Eska let himself be lead along, moving as if in a daze. Sirius headed east, then south, skirting the Drowned Quarter as he made for the old breakwater at the edge of the city.

The well in the Shallows had dried up weeks ago, and the market well would be more than half mud by the time they could get near it. Sirius had hear rumors that the fountain in the High Market was still running clear, but the guards saw to it that no one from the lower districts came near it. They could make due with the sea for now.

They didn’t go far. Eska was nearly swaying on his feet and even Sirius was beginning to drag after climbing only a short way out across the sea ravaged stones. The ache in his belly was one thing, he was used to that, but the constant exhaustion was beginning to get to both of them. His whole body felt as though it were weighted with lead. But at least they were out of the Shallows.

Sirius perched at the top of the breakwater as Eska stripped out of his tunic and picked his way down the barnacle encrusted rocks to sit waist deep in the lapping waves. The water washed away the worst of the dirt and blood, though what lay beneath was scarcely an improvement. Sirius scowled at the swollen marks on his ribs and face, the puffy red already darkening to purple. If he ever found the bastard who had done it -- Gods, he’d break every bone in his body.

After a few half hearted splashes, however, Eska simply stopped, his arms limp at his sides as he huddled there, his gaze fixed blankly on the water, swaying in the lazy swells that washed against him.

Sirius watched him for a short while, but Eska never just _sat_ like that, not willingly, and after a few moments he clambered a little unsteadily after him, the water cool against his sun scorched skin as he splashed down beside him.

Now that he was closer, he could see the slow tears running down his friend’s face. He was so still and quiet, so unlike himself, staring at the water as if he wished he could sink beneath it. And Sirius could only watch helplessly. He wanted to say something, _anything_ to make it better, but even simple reassurances died on his lips. _It will be alright_. They both knew how hollow that promise was. Either their luck would change or it wouldn’t, and they’d lived long enough now to know which of the two was more likely. The Drowned Quarter was full of what remained of folk whose luck just hadn’t changed.

So he said nothing. He shifted a little closer, draping an arm around Eska’s shoulders instead -- _I’m here. I’m not going anywhere_ \-- and just sat, water up to his chest, sharing the stillness and the heavy silence.

They would manage. Whatever happened, they would manage. They always did.


End file.
